“Of course, my lord. Everyone is in the parlor.”
Another nod and he headed in that direction perfectly comfortable in this house. A footman opened the door and Colin walked in to discover everyone sitting around talking.
“Good evening, Colin.” Adrys welcomed him. The others followed suit but in truth he only had eyes and attention for Najja. She sat across from Jo with a chessboard between them. They stood and she bobbed a curtsey. Najja wore a dark green dress which complemented her smooth complexion flawlessly.
All he wanted to do was take her somewhere private and ravish her. Kiss every inch of her smooth skin and hold her close, allowing the powerful scent which was her, flow over him. A compilation no other would be able to duplicate.
“Everything all right?”
Colin blinked and discovered Adrys right before him. Humor lingered in the overly knowledgeable gaze. “Fine, sir.”
Adrys cracked a grin. “I bet you are, son. I just bet you are.”
The man clapped him on the shoulder then walked away. His view to Najja once again unobstructed. She looked so much better. Her skin no longer drawn and pale. Nor was she marred by bandages.
Her face again smooth and without bruises. His fingers itched to touch her, feel the silkiness, relearn her curvatures. Pull her close and just let her touch calm his restless soul.
She wasn’t looking at him, instead concentrating on the board before her. Jo, however, looked at him. She got to her feet and gestured to the chair with a tip of her head. An offer he accepted gratefully.
“Hello, luv,” he murmured as he sat in Jo’s vacated chair.
“Lord Clifton.”
“Colin,” he corrected automatically.
She lifted her head, her gaze soft. “Colin.” The sound of his name flowing from her lips made him hard as the stone which created the house.
“I have missed you.”
“I have been here the entire time.”
“I know. Trust me, I know.” He moved a knight. “Take a walk with me.”
“A walk?”
“Yes. I want to be alone with you.”
A slight lift of her lips hit him low in his gut. “We are alone.”
He jerked his head around and found she spoke true. They were the only two in the room, thankfully behind a closed door. He’d never heard them leave. The knowledge spurred him into action. He maneuvered around the inlaid table and swooped in to cover her mouth with his.
A contented groan slid from him as her taste seeped into him. He thrust his tongue throughout the cavern of her mouth. She sank into him, arms winding around his neck. He was so hard, he ached.
Standing, Colin lifted her without breaking the passionate kiss. Cupping his hands on her ass, he kept her pressed against the rod of steel in his breeches. He backed her against the wall between the draped windows and the blazing fire.
She gasped and he broke the kiss. “Najja?”
“My back is still a little sore.”
Damn, how did I forget that? “Chaise?” He would move wherever but he had to have her.
“No,” she said, voice tight with passion. “Here.”
He didn’t wait any longer. Unfastening his breeches, he freed himself and found Najja raising her skirts. Slanting his mouth again, he devoured her. Using one arm, he lifted her only to lower her back upon his thick shaft.
A moan of raw pleasure burst from his throat. The heated velvet of her core gripped him. Home. Beneath him, she shuddered and wriggled her hips. Breaking the kiss, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. The rapid beat of her pulse pounded against him. He placed one hand against the wall and thrust harder.
Her mewls and pants spurred him on. Harder and deeper he stroked unaware of anything but her, and how it felt to be again buried to the hilt within her. Mine! The roar of possessiveness tore up from his chest and he barely stopped its escape.
She threaded one hand through his hair and pressed him tight to her. Eyes closed, he bit back his groan when she came around him. Her explosive response triggered his own and he shook with the force of his own release.
His legs shook and he kissed his way along her neck and jaw until he reached her mouth. “Najja,” he uttered.
Her sated brown eyes met him. “Colin.” Her voice as low and intimate as his.
“Are you okay? Your wounds?”
“They are fine.” She brushed back a wayward lock of his hair. “I am fine. We should go, they will be holding dinner for us.”
He captured her hand and kissed each fingertip. “I want you, Najja. Again and again. Come home with me.”
Sorrow flashed so briefly he thought he imagined it. She shook her head. With reluctance, he removed himself from her body.
“I am sorry, but I cannot.” They cleaned up and put themselves to rights.
Pain speared him. What did he have to do to keep her? “Still thinking about protecting Jo and her family?”
“Always,” she replied.
“They left us alone, do you think they care if you stay with me?”
“That matters not.”
Anger flared and he had to forcibly relax. “It does to me.”
She slid around to stand before him, hands clasped before her. “Colin,” she whispered.
He met her gaze. “Yes, luv?”
“I would love nothing more than to spend the night with you. I cannot. Please understand.”
Her please hit him, hard. He knew it wasn’t like her to say such words. “I do, luv. I may not like it--I do not like it--but I understand.”
He stared at her, she was still soft from the passion they’d shared. Eyes dark and pooling, lips slightly swollen from his kisses. She looked delectable.
“Come, luv.”
She touched along his chest and gave him a tender kiss. Without a word, she turned and headed from the room, leaving him to follow.
The dinner was light and fun. Yet, there was this undercurrent of sadness. It baffled him a bit. Najja was fine…wasn’t she?
He sat with Adrys in the study after the meal and shared some brandy. The men faced one another near the fire. Silence reigned but he didn’t mind. Colin stared at the flames while Adrys drank. His own drink dangled from two fingers.
“We will be heading to London within the week. Whenever you get there, please visit,” Adrys requested.
“Of course.”
Nothing for a few more moments, but unlike how he’d felt with his own father and brothers, this quiet wasn’t strained or tense. He swirled and downed the drink. Sitting forward, he rested his elbows upon his knees.
“Something on your mind, son?”
This was not an earl and a viscount discussion. He had great respect for Viscount Adrys. The man had a wonderful family and had not allowed his title to keep him from following his passion. He’d taken his family with him and exposed them to an entire other life.
Could I do that?
“Was it hard to move from England and raise your family?”
Hayworth stared at his drink before setting it on the wide arm. “Honoria was less than pleased when I said I was going.” He paused. “She informed me at that moment she and Jo were accompanying me. It is an adjustment, but you see how Jo is. Full of life, she loves life, which had she grown up here, I am not sure would have happened. I will tell you this,” he said, rising. “I would not change it for anything.” Lord Adrys walked to the door. “The hardest choices we face are the ones that show us who we truly are.”
The door clicked and Colin knew he was alone. Hardest choice? There was no hard choice now. The danger had passed and he could make Najja his own. A grin tipped up his lips as he envisioned his life with her. Never a dull moment. His mother had been right, perhaps it was time for him to think about an heir.
Pug burst into the room and announced Jo and Najja were playing. Heart light he followed his little ward to enjoy the women’s combined music. He didn’t want the night to end but he understood Najja would not leave with him,
her sense of honor wouldn’t allow her to do so.
During farewells, he bowed over her hand, eyes upon hers. “Sleep well, luv,” he whispered.
Her smile was slight. “Goodbye, Lord Clifton.”
He kissed the back of her hand before releasing her. “Good night,” he corrected.
Pug before him, he led his young charge out the door toward the waiting carriage. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Colin saw Najja staring after them. He drank his fill before turning away and moving to the well sprung conveyance.
When he returned from London, he would talk to Lord Adrys about marriage to Najja. It would be the beginning of a wonderful life.
Chapter Nineteen
Thunder boomed and lightning split the sky. Najja stood in her room and peered out the window at the fury raging beyond the pane of glass. Her heart mimicked the overall feel of the day. Heavy. Dreary.
She sighed and released the heavy drape from bunched fingers and turned away from the view. No need to watch it, she’d be in it soon enough. Forcing back all personal emotion, she grabbed her one bag from where it sat on the bed and strode to the door. Facial features composed she left the room for the last time and moved down the hall toward the stairs. Voices slowed her. Angry voices.
“You self-centered bastard!” Jo hissed. Najja frowned and hastened to where she could peer down. Jo stood toe to toe with Trystan. “This is your fault. You are taking her from me!”
Trystan gave an unfeeling shrug. “I need her skills.”
Crack!
Jo smacked him across the face and Najja barely stopped herself from interfering. Trystan’s eyes widened with surprise then narrowed.
“Take care you do not do that again.” His hand clasped around her wrist.
“You do not scare me and if you get Najja killed you can be sure a slap is the least I will do to you.”
“The little kitten is not as docile as she wants people to believe.” He tugged her closer. “I like my women feisty.”
“I am not your woman and if you do not release me, I will give you a matching scar on the other side of your face.”
Najja waited although she was ready if Trystan looked to harm her friend. She didn’t get that from him, but one never knew.
“You need a man to curb that tongue,” he paused, “or give it something else to do.” His words were cold and detached and yet, Najja couldn’t help but wonder.
“I am no milksop. Perhaps you need to visit a nursery to cultivate a woman for you from birth. Have her with no will.”
A sardonic grin filled his face. “Already told you I liked feisty, my little hellcat.”
“I will never be yours,” she spat in Najja’s native tongue.
Trystan kissed her hard and fast. “Never say never,” he replied arrogantly in the same language.
His smug grin vanished the second Jo’s knee connected with his groin. Najja bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing aloud. Trystan Wilkes had met his match in Josephine Adrys. A weak-willed woman she was not.
“Do not ever presume you have the right to force your attentions on me or next time it will be a blade as opposed to my knee.” She tugged on her hand but Trystan refused to release her.
“We are far from finished, little hellcat.”
Even from her higher vantage point she could pick up on the smoldering stare he leveled on Jo. After sharing a heated look, he dropped her wrist and put some space between them. Jo stomped away without a look back. Trystan lifted his head and gazed at her. Najja began her descent. His eyes were a bit shiny and she knew it had taken him a great deal of fortitude not to cry out at Jo’s attack.
“She meant what she said, Mr. Wilkes. Jo will not hesitate to use a knife next time.”
He groaned. “I will be on my guard then. Are you ready?”
Was she? Not really but she had to return. “Yes, sir.”
“No sir, Najja. Call me Trystan. We are sharing a room.”
“As you wish.”
She declined his offer to carry her bag and walked beside him. Hayworth and Honoria waited by the door. Jo was nowhere to be seen.
Honoria stepped close first. “Thank you for everything, Najja. Everything. I will miss you.”
With a curtsey, she replied, “It has been my honor to serve your family.”
Honoria wrung her hands and took a step back only to be replaced by her husband.
“There are no words I can give, Najja, that adequately represent my gratitude.” He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. “You are my daughter. If you want to stay you are always welcome.”
She longed to accept. Curl her arms around him like Jo had done so many times before. She couldn’t. This was not her life.
“Thank you, Lord Adrys.”
His fingers flexed on her clothes briefly before he pressed a kiss to her cheek and moved back. “We love you, Najja. Be safe.”
Words wouldn’t leave her throat; they stuck, refusing to move. She loved them, too. All of them. Unused to tears threatening this close, she gave him a perfunctory nod and spun on her heels. Fowler had the door open and the rain poured from the heavens like a raging river.
Trystan dashed down the steps and opened the door. She followed him out and to the carriage. Tossing her bag in, she had one foot on the step when she looked back at the house. Still no Jo. Heart heavy she climbed in, Trystan on her heels and then they were on their way.
“Najja!”
She glanced across the interior at Trystan who had paused in wiping off his face. Was she hearing things?
“Najja wait!” The scream came again, barely heard over the pounding of rain and thunder.
“Stop,” she ordered.
“What?”
Her hand was already on the latch. “Stop the carriage.”
He pounded on the roof but she’d already jumped out. Staring past the end of the carriage She saw Jo running after her, soaking wet. A footman holding an umbrella chased after her.
“Najja!” Jo said, sliding to a stop before her, the mud sucking at the hem of her dress.
“Jo, what are you doing out here?” The question barely left her before Jo threw her arms around her neck.
“I am going to miss you so much,” she cried.
This time, Najja responded to the hug and wrapped her arms around her friend. “I will never forget you, my friend.” She no longer tried to contain her tears and so they mixed with the rain and were washed away. They stood like that for a while until she felt a shudder overtake Jo.
“You need to get inside and dried off.”
“I do not want you to go! I do not want you to forget me.”
Drawing back, she stared at Jo. “I will never forget you, Jo. We are sisters of the heart. Always.” She touched her heart. “You are here with me, forever.”
Gesturing the waiting footman forward, she gave Jo a final smile. “Good bye, little sister. I love you.” She spoke in her native language so it was just between them.
As soon as Jo was headed back to the house, Najja returned to the carriage and climbed in. Trystan closed the door and with another pound to the roof they were again on their way.
“You need to get dry,” he said.
Silent, Najja shrugged out of her cloak and slid over to the dry part of the seat. “I will be fine. I hope I did not hold us up.”
“You needed to say goodbye to a friend. I understand that.”
They rode in silence, stopping only to change horses. When darkness fell they pulled into a roadside inn to grab a meal. She stood gratefully by the fire in the private dining room. Soon I will be away from this dreary weather. I cannot wait to be warm again. A totally different feel than when she had been with Colin, but still comfortable. Food arrived and she joined Trystan around the small table.
He broke apart the steaming bread and gave her half. “Eat well.”
“You too.”
“Do you mind if we drive through the night?”
Sh
e swallowed the bite in her mouth. “No, although I will need to know more about who you are searching for.”
“We will discuss it on the ship.”
“Very good.”
After the meal, they continued on their way. Conversation stayed to a minimum which suited her fine. Her mind on other things. Namely one person. Colin.
Her final recollection of him was when he was leaving Kittle Manor with Pug. How it had felt to be in his arms one last time. Forever may not be an option for her with the Earl of Clifton but the memory could never be taken from her.
When they reached the dock, the day was still cold and gray. The sharp smell of the ocean filled her and she felt hope. Soon, she would be home. Trystan climbed out first and offered a hand to her. Many eyes were upon her as he escorted her to the gangplank. Men moved all around them, yelling and shouting to one another. Birds screamed. The hustle and bustle a far cry from the country estate of Kittle Manor. Or Falcon House.
At the top, a large commanding man stood. Muscled arms crossed over his barrel-like chest. “Mr. Wilkes?”
Trystan nodded, twirling his cane in one hand. “Yes. You have my room ready?”
“I am Captain Furtz. Your room is ready, however, this…woman.”
Trystan looked down his nose. “She is staying with me. Like hell I am spending this long of a voyage without her in my bed.” He slid a hand around her back and over her ass where it stayed. “I trust that will be no trouble.”
The man’s light blue eyes moved leisurely over her and she held still for his perusal. Those eyes grew hungry and Trystan’s fingers flexed on the top of his cane.
“She is mine. I will not tolerate another touching her.”
The man swallowed and nodded. “Understood.” He dropped his gaze and acted like he had not a care in the world. “Room be over here. Keep her hid away, some of the other passengers may not like her here.”
“She will be too tired to leave the room.” Trystan pinched her ass and said in a loud voice, “Come on, darlin’, our bed awaits.”
She had to give him credit, he was very adept at portraying a womanizer. Their room, upon entering, could be considered quaint. A single bed had been bolted to the wall. She sighed, it will be a long trip.
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